A dorm-room shidduch gemach provides everything but the chemistry
The door to Room 119 swings open, and a freshly shaved guy in his early twenties rushes into the dorm room, buttoning his shirt with one hand and holding a phone to his ear with the other.
His mother’s voice spills out of the receiver as he heads to the bookshelf, scrawls his name on a notepad, and grabs an E-ZPass tag out of a box before dashing out.
The door has barely shut when it creaks open once more, and another guy, younger and a bit more timid looking, peeks inside. He spots the shelf full of boardgames and walks over to it, examining Taboo, Codenames, and Bananagrams before settling on Perfect Matches. On his way out, he notices a large bucket of plastic straws and takes two.
Off in the corner, there is a confident-looking fellow walking in a circle, fielding phone calls. Snippets of conversations are audible; some callers sound more anxious than others.
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